Trying to seize fire, you’ll burn
by Lotten
Summary: ...and Franz' soul is already ablaze. For a moment, Albert belongs to him. Soon, only ashes will remain.


Okay, so this is my first attempt, and since I already know it sucks, please don't point it out to me. And yes, of course it is Albert/Franz. My mind is already utterly corrupt.

xXxXx

The candle was soon about to burn out, and therefore shone brighter than it ever had before this evening. To Franz's eyes, so did the stars, but perhaps that was because he himself was soon to burn out, what was left of his life drifting like ashes for the winds that even now howled softly outside. He watched Albert, the other man's mind lost in drunken sleep, and the bitterness he had once felt had now completely given way for tender regret.

Of the aching dreams that had once been his constant companions, only the last, despairing traces of a fool's hope remained.

Finally, he stood up, stepping over to his friend's side. He then gently gathered Albert in his arms and coaxed his body onto the floor, wrapping him in a blanket. There was not much more he could do, time was scarce; far too little was left to be called the rest of his life without it sounding like some kind of horrible mockery. Yet, he lingered, for without Albert – and he constantly reminded himself of this – all the time in the world was not enough, every second dead and empty.

_So what choice did he have?_

And he thought to himself that it, after all, was only fair that he would be allowed to stay a little longer, to strengthen the memory of the man he – the word was hard even to think – loved, in his mind and in his heart. After all, tonight was the only night of a thousand and more shared, that he could truly call Albert his. The other man's life depended on his, he held it in his own frail hands, and therefore he for a moment would own what he had always dreamt of.

_Only to give it away._

It was a bitter irony indeed that the only way he could for a moment have his dream fulfilled, and save his deepest desire, was to in the next moment shatter this dream and give Albert away for ever. But tears never did anyone good, and Franz was neither angry or afraid now. Only sorry that he had to in every way betray what he loved.

So yes, he was entitled this moment to give in to the last sweet drops that remained in the chalice of longing.

He never knew why he then started crying, when he had promised himself that he would be strong. But maybe it was because he realised that no matter what he had now, the last hours of his life would be so desolately empty. In a way more final than any of the ways Albert had left him behind, Franz was now leaving Albert behind, and that hurt. What people seldom realise is that nothing pains a heart so much as deliberately turning your back on a loved one.

He touched one of his tears with the tip of his finger, and then gently touched Albert's cheek, leaving a small drop of salt water to gleam in the light of the dying candle. He knew that Albert would not even notice when he woke up, but still it was important, almost just as important as taking the place of his friend and beloved in the duel, almost as important as leaving the present with Eugenie. It was his way of without words saying: It wasn't easy. It was never easy, Albert, but I gladly did it – had to do it – for you.

Finally, he leant over, and for the shortest of seconds brushed his lips over the silently gaping ones that belonged to the man he loved. He savoured the sharp taste of alcohol and the bittersweet taste of love as the greatest gift ever given to him, and here time stretched into eternity, slowed down until the point where it became unbearable, and the pain intensified to become the knife that finally cut him away from the life that had once been his.

He stood up, and Franz' last tears were shed over the fact that Albert would never know or understand the love that compelled him to do what he did. Maybe, when it was all too late, he would feel a mere shadow, a ghost and nothing more, touch his soul like the long-lost breath of something dead. But never would he even come close to knowing what storms of emotion had driven Franz for all these years.

His love, however strong it was, would be crushed by the death he freely gave himself to.

There was a small, sad smile on his lips as he, wiping away his tears, though:

"_The Count will think that it is he that has killed me, but the truth is that it will be this crushed love, the sharp and cruel splinters of its once perfect mirror, that will bleed me and cut me and finally defeat me. As it always has."_

Then he turned and walked out, and only once did he look back. Only once, to whisper a short farewell. Maybe, some other time, some other life, Albert would be able to forgive. Maybe, then, he could even understand. It was probably too much to ask for that he would accept.

A star winked out and died along with the candle. Franz left only darkness behind him.


End file.
